


Five Impossible Things

by thistlethorns



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (because it's a fairy tale of course), Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Logic, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistlethorns/pseuds/thistlethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with an offer of marriage. </p><p>Specifically, brave knight Steven has been sent to ask a fairy's hand in marriage on behalf of his king. Said fairy does not like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Once there was, one day there will be: this is the beginning of every fairy tale. There is no 'if' and no 'perhaps'._ —Breton fairy tale opening.

\--

It starts with an offer of marriage.

It starts with an offer of marriage, but some who tell it will say it started long before, from the time the first rumour surrounding the mountain arose. There is a mountain in the kingdom, so high that its peak is wreathed in clouds, and the people of the kingdom dare not climb it for fear of the mysterious being that resides near the top.

Rumours spread, as rumours do. One such rumour reaches the king’s court, of the fairy of the mountain and how he has the power to destroy kingdoms in the blink of an eye. The royal guardsmen hear of the rumour too, and they trade nervous jokes and stories from someone’s cousin’s landlord’s friend, who once lived near the mountain and swears he heard monstrous roars every few weeks. Steve hears the stories and laughs along, and maybe the part of him that craves adventure wishes that he could have seen these fantastic beasts himself.

Steve is training with the rest of His Majesty’s guard when the order comes from above. Their king has announced that he will marry the fairy of the mountain, to bring power and stability to their kingdom. His Majesty asks that a member of his guard brings the royal proposal to the mountain on his behalf.

None of the others will go, already too spooked by the tales, but Steve volunteers at once. He ignores the horror and pity in his fellow guards’ faces, and goes to prepare for his journey at once.

\--

On the mountain, Steve fights his way through all manner of ferocious beasts and poisonous plants, and narrowly avoids a host of traps that look like nothing he’s seen before, but are utterly ingenious in their design. He takes this to be confirmation that someone does indeed live on this mountain, and each near-death experience with a new trap just adds to his determination to reach the top.

He eventually finds himself above cloud level, where a gigantic palace sits on the mountainside, built of mirrors and steel. Steve gapes; the construction is unlike any he has ever seen, even in books and paintings from foreign lands. Before he can take another step, though, a voice rings out from seemingly nowhere.

“Please state your name and business.”

“Steve Rogers,” says Steve without thinking, then frowns at thin air. “Who are you?”

“And your business on the mountain?” queries the voice, as though he hadn’t spoken the second part.

“I’m here with a message from the king.” Steve wonders if hefting his weapon would seem hostile to whoever is watching him. “I’m looking for the fairy of the mountain.”

A different voice sounds out, warmer and more amused than the first.

“Hah! Fairy, now there’s a good choice of words.” There’s a sound like the clearing of a throat, and then, “Well, then. Deliver your message, messenger. Fairy’s listening.”

Steve sets his jaw and stares pointedly at the huge doors. After a minute of utter silence, he hears a tiny, resigned sigh, and the doors swing open.

Out steps a—a man, is Steve’s first thought, except men don’t have bright blue stars shining from within their chests, do they? The light washes over the stranger, and Steve’s next thought is that the stranger is quite beautiful, with clever eyes and a smiling mouth. Steve realises he’s staring. All those stories, and not a one mentioned how enchanting a fairy would be. Then again, maybe these things just go without saying.

“One fairy, as insisted,” says the stranger. “The name’s Tony, by the way. So what is it that His Kingliness wishes to tell me?”

“I…” Steve shakes himself out of it. “His Majesty has sent me with an offer of marriage.”

“To you?” asks Tony, smirking as he eyes Steve up and down.

“No! To His Majesty,” says Steve. He’s almost certain that he’s blushing. “His Majesty wishes you as his Royal Consort and co-ruler of the kingdom.”

Tony’s brows tick up. “I decline.”

“What?”

“I decline. Respectfully, of course.”

“Why?” asks Steve stupidly. He hadn’t even considered this to be a possibility, if he’s honest with himself. As far as he was concerned, coming up the mountain was the hard part. Now that he’s here, his earlier assumption that all recipients of royal proposals would surely agree does seem kind of naive.

“Because I don’t even know your king. Does he even know me?” Tony points out.

Steve doesn’t have an answer. Tony sighs.

“Look, I’m not interested in kings, or queens, or whatever other kind of powerful lords are out there, who think that having a magical creature in their court will strengthen their position,” says Tony. His bare arms are folded across his chest, bathed in soft blue light. “Neither do I need a kingdom. I’m impressed you made it up here, soldier, but you wasted a trip.”

“Are you sure you can’t reconsider?” Steve asks, feeling like a fool but stubbornly refusing to admit defeat, never mind that this isn’t really a battle.

“Quite sure, yes.” Tony’s tone is wry.

Steve doesn’t know what prompts him to do it. It might be loyalty to his king’s orders. It might be a bruised pride at having come all this way for nothing. It might be that Steve doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“I can convince you,” he blurts out. “Consider me my king’s proxy, and I’ll win your hand on His Majesty’s behalf.”

Tony stares at him like Steve’s just promised to set his own head on fire. It rather feels like it is anyway, what with the way he’s blushing. He holds his head high, though, and gives Tony the most determined look he can muster.

“Are you in the habit of forcing people to do things they don’t want to do, then?” asks Tony archly. Steve winces, is about to apologise, but Tony continues, “So be it. Two can play at that game. If your king can meet five of my demands, I’ll marry him.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes widen in disbelief. Surely it’s not that easy?

Tony snorts. “I can withdraw the offer, if it’s that offensive to you.”

“No, of course not,” says Steve hastily. “It’s a deal. What are your demands? I’ll fulfil them on behalf of the king.”

The unimpressed look on Tony’s face morphs into a sly smirk, and Steve barely has enough time to recall what the stories say about making deals with magical creatures (i.e. Don’t.) before Tony says, “Well, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”

\--

Steve stares at the crashing waters in dismay. In the middle of the enormous lake, he can see the small island Tony told him would be there, red trees standing proud on the shore. At this distance, he can’t make out any golden berries, but he supposes they must be there. Hopefully.

The only way across appears to be to swim, but the water swirls and swells with a roughness more like the sea than a lake, and Steve isn’t entirely sure what’s lurking in its depths. He grits his teeth. He’d rather get drenched than go back to Tony and see his face when Steve gives up at the very first task.

Just as he’s about to take off his boots, a large falcon swoops down to rest in a nearby tree. An idea hits Steve, and he turns to the bird.

“Hey there. You can fly to that island with the red trees out in the lake, can’t you?” he asks. “I don’t suppose you could fetch me some of those golden berries I hear grow on those trees—”

The falcon tilts his head at Steve.

“I can certainly fly there,” says the falcon. “But I can’t pick the berries. My claws are too big. I’d advise against swimming in this water, though—you’d sooner die than reach the far shore.”

“I see,” Steve says, “thank you anyway, falcon.”

Deciding not to go into the lake if he can help it, Steve wanders around, looking for a branch of some kind that he can maybe fashion into a tool for the falcon to pick the berries with. Deeper in the woods, he happens upon an archer shooting at the trunk of a tree. The archer’s arrows are embedded haphazardly all over the bark; he must not be very good.

“What are you looking at?” says the archer with a scowl.

“Just passing through,” says Steve. “I’m Steve.”

“I’m Clint, but people call me Hawkeye.” The archer grins at Steve. “What about it? I bet I’m the best you’ve ever seen.”

Steve stares. He’s almost certain _Hawkeye_ is _not_ what people call this man.

“What? You’ve seen better?” demands Clint, because Steve is terrible at hiding his facial expressions. “I hit every last one of them!”

One of whom? Steve takes a closer look at the bark and does a double take. Each arrow has perfectly nailed an ant, roughly the same colour as the tree. Cruelty against harmless wildlife aside, Steve is duly impressed. And considering.

“I’m not so sure,” Steve drawls, giving the tree his most unimpressed look. “I mean, from that distance, this was pretty basic stuff.”

Clint sputters in indignation. Steve shrugs and continues, “You know what would _actually_ be a challenge? Those trees on the lake. I bet you can’t even see the fruit on them from the shore, much less shoot them off.”

“Child’s play,” scoffs Clint. He stomps over to the tree and yanks his arrows out, shoves them into his quiver, and turns to Steve. “Come on, lead the way. I’ll make you eat those words, soldier.”

They make their way back to the lakeshore. The falcon, still resting in his tree, looks at them curiously. Clint pays the bird no heed, and fires ten arrows in quick succession at the island of red trees.

“Done!” he declares, his face smug.

“Falcon,” calls Steve, “Clint here claims he’s shot the fruit off the red trees. Will you fly over and bring his arrows back to him, and tell us if he’s lying?”

“I can do that,” says the falcon, with mirth only Steve sees, and then he’s off, swooping across choppy waters with grace.

A minute later, he returns with the arrows in one of his claws, which he drops at Clint’s feet. Clint picks them up and puts them in his quiver again.

“He has done as he claims. There were ten fruits on the ground,” the falcon tells Steve.

“Ha!”

Steve nods gravely at Clint. “You’re definitely the best archer I have ever had the privilege to meet, Hawkeye.”

Clint glows and preens. While he’s distracted, the falcon leans in close to Steve and holds out his other claw. Ten glistening golden berries fall from his claw into Steve’s outstretched hand, and Steve pockets them discreetly.

“I need to be on my way,” Steve says, “Thank you both for entertaining a simple soldier like me.”

Clint waves him off with an imperious air and the falcon winks at Steve.

\--

Tony is hilariously put out when Steve shows up with the fruit in tow, confirming Steve’s suspicion that Tony had set the task purely to mess with Steve, and not out of any actual desire for the strange golden berries.

“It was supposed to be impossible,” says Tony sulkily.

Steve tries not to smile at the picture Tony makes—the powerful, otherworldly being acting like a petulant child—but he probably fails.

“Don’t you want to eat them?” he tries, cajoling.

“No, don’t be silly, they’re poisonous. Gold is a heavy metal, what is _wrong_ with you?”

Poisonous. Of course. And glaring at Tony doesn’t seem to provoke any remorse. Steve heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“What’s your next demand, Tony?” he asks, and braces himself for yet another ridiculous request.

Tony considers him for a moment. He seems to reach some conclusion, nods to himself, and then turns a sweet, innocent smile on Steve. Steve isn’t fooled for a second.

It’s a nice smile, regardless.

“You know, Steve,” Tony starts, and Steve realises with a jolt that this is the first time Tony has said his name, “I really like this mountain. It’s nice and isolated and quiet and I can work on my projects in peace. And the view of the stars! Really, it’s perfect. I’m quite proud of it.”

“Proud of it?” asks Steve. He’s not sure where this spiel is going.

“Oh, yes. I built this mountain, didn’t you know? Raised it from barely-cooled lava myself and made sure it was taller than anyone else’s. What’s the point in making a mountain if it’s not going to be the biggest, right?”

Steve, mind boggling, manages a mild, “Right.”

“Exactly,” says Tony, spreading his hands wide. “And so, because I built it myself, I’m completely sure there aren’t any structural failures with the thing. I mean, I’ve never had so much as a landslide during the rainy season. I even checked the telluric currents! I’m in prime topographic estate!”

“So what happened?” Steve asks quickly before Tony can continue ranting.

Tony deflates a little. He looks away and mutters something Steve can’t quite decipher. When Steve prompts him to repeat himself, he gives a tiny embarrassed cough and mutters, “Earthquakes.” Then he straightens and clarifies, “Been feeling a few lately. They’re not supposed to be happening, but it could be a break in the tectonic plates under the mountain, or maybe a patch of low-grade shale on one side of the base, I don’t know. I haven’t been able to fix it. That’s my second demand, by the way. Fix my mountain.”

Steve gapes at him.

“Tony, you’re asking me to _repair_ a _mountain_. Me, a mortal soldier from the royal guard.”

“It _is_ supposed to be a challenge,” says Tony, shrugging. His eyes are narrowed with mirth. “My potential marriage is at stake, here. Besides, it’s got nothing to do with you being mortal or a soldier. I’m a very capable, er, fairy. I don’t know of anyone who can fix what I can’t, mortal or otherwise.”

“I didn’t even know mountains could be _broken_ ,” Steve insists.

“Sure they can. People break them all the time. Miners and so forth.”

“So I ought to go find a hole in the mountain and tell you where to stick a giant boulder?”

“Of course not. You think a boulder needs to be stuck somewhere, you stick it there yourself. You’re the one with the muscles, after all.” Tony flashes him a dazzling smile. “Thinking of giving up yet?”

Steve eyes the lines of Tony’s bare arms and loosely-clothed chest, and privately thinks that Tony is not without muscles himself. He huffs out a resigned sigh.

“Fine. I’ll go fix your darn mountain,” he says as he turns to leave. “Wish me luck.”

“Don’t die,” Tony says instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> For number one Tumblr writing cheerleader, [rineechan](http://rineechan.tumblr.com).
> 
> Loosely inspired by Puteri Gunung Ledang: The Musical, and mostly brought on because AA is the best universe to be in, always.  
> Puteri Gunung Ledang is a Malay legend that has been adapted into a movie/musical ~~(and now a fanfic)~~. It's a fantastic tale of a powerful princess who rejects the advances of a sultan, and [the soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9nHlrjeKzs) is awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s two whole days before Steve first hears it.

A mighty roar rings out from somewhere on the mountain, sending birds of every colour flying from their trees. Steve recalls the stories of someone’s neighbour’s uncle’s local blacksmith, who heard monsters bellowing on the mountain at night, and decides to investigate further. He follows the sound and comes across a cave, so dark and wide it looks as though it opens into the heart of the mountain itself.

Steve spares a moment to wonder idly how big a boulder he would need to patch the cave up, then lights a torch and goes in to investigate.

Deeper and deeper he goes, until finally the passageway widens into an enormous cavern. It’s so big that his torch doesn’t light all of it. The far end is shrouded in shadow; as Steve squints, he hears a loud, guttural rumbling. A shape that’s large enough to be alarming detaches itself from the darkness and approaches. Steve tenses for a fight.

“Who’s there?” says the beast. There’s a sharp sound, like rocks being struck together, then a fire bursts into life on either side of the cavern.

The beast is humanoid, but Steve is certain humans don’t grow to such a size, nor have skin this brilliantly green. Its face is terrifyingly fierce.

“I’m Steve,” he says, trying for a friendly voice. “Who are you?”

“Hulk.” The b—Hulk seems to shrug Steve off as a non-threat, and turns back to the far wall. Now that the cavern is better lit, Steve can see that whole sections of the wall have been torn up.

“Were you the one who broke those rocks?”

Hulk grunts. “Yeah.”

Mystery earthquakes, solved. Steve tries not to cheer in relief.

“Why?” he asks Hulk carefully.

“Looking for something.”

“Can I help?”

Hulk squints at Steve suspiciously, then nods and says, “Okay. It’s a lion.”

“A _lion_?”

“A glass lion,” Hulk clarifies.

Steve has so many questions, but at this point he’s beginning to realise how futile it would be to ask. Adventuring seems to mostly consist of charging ahead without worrying about the whys and hows, as far as he can tell. He gamely sets about searching for the missing glass lion.

\--

“Your earthquakes are caused by a big green man throwing temper tantrums.”

Tony looks at Steve as though he’s grown another head. Or maybe not. Steve doesn’t know what qualifies as incredibly strange in Tony’s world.

“A green giant,” Tony says flatly. “With a temper.”

Steve makes a helpless gesture with his hands. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Okay. Okay. Steve. And what did you do?”

“I helped him find his trinket and told him to just ask you for help if he ever lost anything on your mountain again, instead of digging a cave out. He’s gone home now,” adds Steve helpfully. He can’t help playing up his wide-eyed innocence.

“Great. Now I have a colossal hole in the side of my mountain to fix before midsummer,” says Tony. He seems distracted already, gaze unfocused and nimble fingers twitching. Steve clears his throat and Tony’s attention snaps back to him. “What? Oh, right, the—third task, is it?” Steve nods. “Right, then. Come along, let me show you something.”

“What is it?” asks Steve, but his feet are already moving, following Tony around and behind his mirrored palace.

There is a path leading up towards the very peak of the mountain, where the trees fall away around a grassy clearing. Scattered about the clearing are rocks of various sizes. It’s close to dusk, and the sun glows from below the layer of clouds that stretches out around the mountaintop. Several large stars are already out, bright and clear and looking almost close enough to touch.

“I mentioned the view being one of the perks, didn’t I?” Tony says, looking pleased at Steve’s awestruck expression.

“You did,” says Steve faintly.

“So, third demand: I want a bridge to the stars.”

“You want _what?_ ”

Tony quirks the most infuriating, smug, lopsided grin at him.

“See, I have this really good friend who is absolutely _brilliant_ at star work,” he tells Steve. “She builds the best stars. Genius, that woman. She lived here with me for a while, working from this clearing, but then one day she decided to leave. She’s living amongst the stars now, and, well, I can totally understand needing to live surrounded by your own creations.”

“Of course.” Steve’s voice is one thin thread away from hysterical.

“But I miss working with her and having her around. So I need a way to visit the stars whenever I want to, especially now that she’s found herself a lover who also lives amongst the stars. I’ve met Thor a couple of times; he’s great fun.”

“Can’t you just go the same way she did?” asks Steve.

“I could...” Tony draws the last word out. “But it takes a lot of power per trip, and I’d much rather have a more efficient mode of travel if I’m going to be dropping by often.”

Steve gives him a dirty look, which seems to delight Tony.

“So! I’ll go patch my mountain up now. You’re welcome to stay up here and brainstorm for as long as you like,” Tony says, and he leaves Steve to wait for nightfall alone.

\--

Night, as it turns out, is freezing.

The stars are out in full, but Steve can barely focus on the sight, much less thinking about building a bridge. He sets himself against a crop of large rocks, letting it block out the worst of the wind. He wonders if Tony is awake, and if he will lend him a blanket.

A blue glow falls across the rocks.

“There you are,” comes Tony’s voice from above. Steve looks up and sees him peeking over the top of the boulder, eyes sparkling in the light of the star in his chest.

Tony vaults across and lands soundlessly on the grass in front of Steve. In his hands is a soft-looking bundle, which he holds out to Steve.

“Provisions,” he says.

The bundle turns out to be two heavy blankets, wrapped around a bag of food and water. Steve looks up. Tony has a determinedly nonchalant expression on his face.

“Thank you, Tony. This is very kind of you.” He tries to look Tony in the eye as he says it, but Tony is staring up at the stars.

“Forgot how nippy it gets up here.” Tony shrugs. “I may be trying to stump you, Steve, but I’m not looking to get you killed.”

Steve smiles. He wraps one blanket around himself (bliss!) and holds the other out.

“Fancy a spot of stargazing?” he says. “Tell me about your work with your friend. Do you make stars too?”

Tony doesn’t answer immediately. For a few minutes, he alternates his gaze between Steve and the stars above them. Then he smiles at Steve, small and genuine, and it makes Steve’s breath catch. Tony plucks the blanket from Steve’s hand, pulls it around his own shoulders so that he’s properly swaddled in it, and plops down onto the grass.

“Sit down, soldier,” says Tony cheerfully. “I’m going to teach you all you need to know about forging a star. See, there are different types of stars…”

\--

Steve stays on the mountaintop for seven clear, starry nights. Tony comes and joins him each night, and every time, he asks, “Feel like giving up yet?” And Steve smiles and tells him to stay and talk. So Tony does. They talk about every inconsequential thing that comes to mind, about their lives and friends and interests, about places they have been or want to go. Tony laughs a lot during these talks, and Steve finds himself laughing along. Before Steve knows it, the night has passed and the stars he meant to study are hidden away.

Part of him worries that Tony is deliberately enrapturing him, so that he never completes his impossible task. Another part thinks it might not be so bad, staying here for just a little while longer.

During the days, Tony disappears to work on repairing his mountain. Steve is left to explore Tony’s palace at his leisure, with Tony’s careless assurances that he won’t be able to enter any forbidden areas anyway. Steve noses around dozens of rooms, plods through endless corridors, pokes at hundreds of things he is fairly sure he shouldn’t be poking at. Tony’s home is fascinating, but Steve thinks it also feels rather lonely.

On the seventh night, he and Tony are curled up on the mountaintop again, and they’ve lapsed into comfortable silence following a ramble about the basics of building a rainbow. The sky is covered with clouds tonight, making the glow from Tony’s chest more pronounced. Steve stares at the light, idly wondering if rainbows can be built at night.

“Tony,” he asks absently, “could you reach the stars on a rainbow bridge?”

Tony, who quieted when Steve said his name, now has a strange expression on his face. “A rainbow needs sunlight to refract through water, Steven, I told you that ten seconds ago,” he says, but his attempt at chastising is marred by the contemplative set of his brow.

“And the sun is a star like all those we see at night. You mentioned _that_ two nights ago,” Steve says. He feels a rush of excitement burbling up in his chest. “Couldn’t it work? You could build a rainbow to your friend Jane’s star, and when it shines at night—”

“A bridge would form,” finishes Tony. He looks slightly awestruck, but more than that, he’s _alight_ with energy in a way that Steve hasn’t seen him before, like even visualising the work ahead excites him. Tony stands abruptly, pulls Steve to his feet, and starts running back down towards his palace, all the while murmuring to himself words that Steve doesn’t understand. Steve runs after him, wondering if Tony will let him watch as he works.

\--

Tony brings Steve along on his first voyage on the rainbow bridge. Steve meets Jane, the starmaker fairy, and Thor, who as far as Steve can tell is a fairy prince. They have a grand time amongst the stars, and Steve forgets to ask Tony for the fourth task until they’re back on Tony’s mountain.

Tony’s face does a funny little shift when he does ask, but it’s gone before Steve can even begin to parse it.

“You’re doing a distressingly good job of achieving the impossible,” Tony laments. “But this next task is the true height of impossibility. No one mortal or immortal would be able to manage it.”

“Try me,” says Steve, having grown both in confidence and in fondness for banter with Tony.

Eyebrows raised, Tony elaborates, “Over in the kingdom east of here lives another dear friend of mine. Some years ago, I vowed in jest that I would be able to steal a hair right off her head—it was in contest of our powers, you see—and I have yet to succeed. Not only is Natasha incredibly powerful, she is also constantly vigilant.”

“And you want me to go and steal one.” Steve is barely even surprised or fazed at this point.

“Seven moons, no. I want you to steal three,” says Tony, beaming widely. “If I’m going to be showing her up, I need it to be over the top, after all.”

\--

Steve makes it past two doors before he gets caught. He considers this to be a minor victory nonetheless, considering Tony apparently never even manages to step past the kingdom’s borders without Natasha finding out.

Natasha the Black Widow appears to be yet another kind of fairy, albeit one that’s utterly terrifying. Her hair is a brilliant blood red, and falls around her shoulders and down her back in perfect waves. She corners Steve right inside the second door with a dagger to his throat, its blade glowing almost as blue as the star in Tony’s chest.

“Who sent you?” she demands roughly, and Steve realises that this is a being who can sense lies from fathoms away. He doesn’t swallow, for fear of the blade at his neck.

“Tony,” he says, as honest as he can manage it, “The fairy from the mountain. He tasked me with stealing your hair.”

Natasha lets out a small snort at the word ‘fairy’. If Steve lives to see Tony again, he’s going to ask why everyone keeps laughing at that.

“And how many hairs does Tony want from me?” asks Natasha. Her grip hasn’t loosened.

“Three. He said your bet called for only one, but—”

“But he has a penchant for one-upmanship. I know.” She finally releases Steve, flipping her dagger over in her hand and smirking amusedly at him.

“I’ve come to realise that,” says Steve. He doesn’t rub at the bruised skin where she held him. “Steve Rogers, milady. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“You are clearly on some sort of bet with Tony yourself, soldier,” Natasha says. “Tell me, what is at stake in this deal of yours?”

“His hand in marriage,” Steve tells her.

There is a short silence as she stares at him, hard. He’s about to explain further, but then Natasha bursts into long, loud peals of delighted laughter. Without saying another word, she reaches up and plucks three hairs off the top of her head and holds them out to him.

Confused, but relieved and not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve takes the hairs and carefully puts them away. Natasha sends him on his way with her beautiful face still filled with mirth (and perhaps a little mischief).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha ships it.
> 
> Oops, the fifth and final task is gonna be another chapter. Sorry about that. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Also, I'm seriously just writing this stuff with barely any editing or proofreading, so don't hesitate to tell me if you spot any mortifying mistakes! (Hint: I think ALL mistakes are mortifying)


	3. Chapter 3

Steve doesn’t bother hiding the smug look on his face when Tony’s jaw drops. He deposits the three shining red hairs into Tony’s hand with a flourish, trying not to linger on the warmth of his skin.

“ _How_?” demands Tony, finally having rediscovered his voice. “That can’t be—what did you _do_?”

“I’m not telling,” says Steve, still smirking. “The sly eagle shares not his secrets.”

Tony scoffs. “You’re terrible at secrets, Steven, even by mortal standards.”

“Maybe, but the Lady Natasha is likely fantastic with them,” Steve retorts.

“A truth spoken,” says Tony, and he smiles in acknowledgement. “I might never hear the story behind your impossible feat, but I presume you achieved it through sheer stubbornness, just as you brokered your deal with me.”

“That, I can confirm,” Steve says, “and speaking of our deal, I believe it’s time you named the fifth, and final, supposedly impossible task.” Almost as soon as the words leave him, Steve feels his smile slipping; he’s been enjoying this adventure, this game with Tony so much that his original mission from His Majesty the King has barely entered his mind. Now, with the final task upon him, the end weighs heavily on Steve. Judging by the sudden unhappy turn to Tony’s mouth, he thinks Tony feels the same way.

Tony bows his head, hiding his face, and doesn’t say anything for a long while. Silence falls between them, filled only by the wind rushing around the mountain and Steve’s own pulse beating in his ears. Then Tony raises his gaze to Steve’s and asks, quiet and serious, “Why does your king seek to marry me, Steve?”

Steve opens his mouth to give Tony an answer and finds that he has none. Had the king included a reason in the order? Surely he must have, and Steve's own impatience for adventure has led to his forgetfulness.

“I do not presume to understand His Majesty’s reasons,” he says carefully, “but I know that you would lend great strength to our kingdom.”

“Strength to what purpose?” Tony says. “This kingdom has not been in danger of attack for a hundred years, and it won’t be for the next hundred. Even if a threat did emerge, need I be bound to your king for my help to come?”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Steve answers, but it’s weak and they both can hear it. “But a marriage; that appeases the uncertainty.”

“But is that reason enough for a _marriage_? Is nothing else needed?”

“Of course not,” says Steve, feeling more and more bemused; he doesn’t quite know what he’s arguing for anymore. Marriage is an abstract idea to him, a cluster of confused ideals that he doesn’t particularly link to his own reality. Still… “It calls for mutual respect and—and care, between the parties involved.”

“Well answered,” Tony remarks. Steve wonders if he has just passed some sort of test, or maybe fallen into a trap. “Then I have the final task, but it is one you should convey to your king.”

Steve’s brow folds. “But I’m—”

“You have completed the tasks I set so far on behalf of your king, but it is time your king proved himself to me,” interjects Tony. “If he is the one who wants to wed me, he must be an individual I can respect.”

“I understand,” says Steve. “I will bear your wishes to my king. What is your final task?”

There’s a pause as Tony draws a slow, quiet breath, and then: “‘If you care for me, set me free,’” says Tony, “tell that to your king, Steve, as my fifth and final task.”

Steve feels his jaw loosening in shock at the simplicity of the trick, and Tony’s cleverness. Part of him wonders how it took Tony this long to come up with it, genius that he is, but then he supposes that the previous tasks were all meant to be impossible in the first place. Another part of him muses distantly that the most powerful things are often the simplest. Mostly, however, he just feels like a fool.

“That’s a trick,” Steve manages, and Tony just shrugs.

“Is it, though? If His Kingliness truly cares, I might yet be moved to accept of my own free will,” he says. There’s something shadowed hiding in his expression, but Steve is too busy feeling deceived to care.

“Fine,” Steve snaps, “I can see I have no choice but to do as you say.”

He leaves the mountain, ignoring the funny twinge behind his breastbone, and begins his journey back to the castle.

\--

Steve’s return causes an enormous commotion at the castle, where his long absence had him assumed dead on the treacherous mountain. His fellow guards shout in joy and cry out in shock, and he is stopped more than a dozen times on his way to an audience with the king.

His Majesty is eager to hear of his travels—is there indeed a fairy on the mountain, and is the fairy as powerful as rumoured? What of the fairy’s palace—paved in gold, as the people say? And are there great beasts under the fairy’s thrall?

Steve answers his king readily, but leaves out the information which His Majesty doesn’t ask for—the way Tony’s star lights up on a clear night; the mischievous curl to Tony’s lips when he thinks he’s being exceedingly clever; the wistful, faraway look in his eyes when he talks about building; the tiny skip Tony always does at the bottom step on the stairs. The king doesn’t once ask ‘what is the fairy like’, and Steve doesn’t tell him.

Finally, when the king demands to know why Steve hasn’t brought the fairy to him already, Steve tells His Majesty of Tony’s fifth task. The king listens to the words Steve was bade to convey, and laughs uproariously.

“Care for him!” chuckles the king. “What foolishness!”

Steve’s heart clenches, and before he can make sense of the emotion welling up in him, the king sobers and gestures impatiently at him.

“This has nothing to do with _caring_ ,” the king says, sneering on the last word, “and everything to do with the power that that fairy holds. I must have it, Captain! Drag him here by the wing if you must, but I insist that he shows himself in my court!”

“I will not,” says Steve, gritting his teeth, and he is afraid, so afraid of what he is doing in standing against his king, but he is even more afraid of what he might become in the service of a king so ready to violate the agency of others.

\--

Tony is waiting in the clearing above his palace when Steve returns to the mountain. His star is glowing dimmer than Steve remembers it, but maybe it’s only Steve’s imagination. They stare at each other without speaking for several charged moments, and then it’s Tony who breaks the silence.

“Before you deliver whatever judgement you’re here to deliver—” Tony’s gaze flicks down to the sword and the shield in Steve’s hard grip, still tarred from his battle in leaving the castle grounds— “Steve, I will ask my final task once more. If you care for me, _set me free_.” His eyes are locked onto Steve’s, mouth turned in a tiny, sad smile.

The simplest, most powerful things, Steve muses.

Sword and shield are dropped at his feet, and he steps closer to the starlight. Tony’s eyes widen as he approaches.

“I do, Tony,” Steve says, breathless with nerves and surprise at himself. “I do care for you, and I couldn’t—I can’t bear the thought of you being forced into marriage without love, even to a king. Just—forget all about that foolish proposal. I won’t take you to the king; I can’t.”

Only a scant few feet separate him and Tony now. Tony tilts his head and asks, face and voice serious, “And what will you do? Where will you go now that you’ve defied your king?”

Smiling wryly, Steve says, “Well, I’ve met many new friends over the course of your impossible tasks. Surely in this big, wide world, I’ll manage somehow.”

“Ridiculous,” snorts Tony, stepping closer so that there’s barely a foot left between them. “You could stay here on the mountain. No other mortal has been brave or stupid enough to climb it in years, and if we give it enough time, your disappearance will helpfully add to the convenient rumours. Besides,” he adds with a smile, “you love me, don’t you?”

“I do,” repeats Steve. “Let’s not play any more games, Tony. Do you care for me in the same way?”

Tony laughs, and kisses him in answer. Steve closes his eyes and kisses back, and it’s more amazing than anything else he’s seen on his journey so far; Tony is warm against him, burning bright and alive and wonderful. Too soon, Tony is pulling back, though he doesn’t go far. He rubs his nose against Steve’s. His lips are still close enough to brush, so Steve leans forward to kiss him again, but Tony pulls his head back at the last second and smiles wickedly at Steve’s confusion.

“Maybe just a few games,” Tony says.

 

(And they live happily there still, amid rumours of ferocious beasts and dangerous magics.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧happy ending*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I'm [kienu](http://kienu.tumblr.com) on tumblr; come and play!


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